shoes by the door

"those aren't mine," gus said.

he was standing beside them with one hand in his pocket. the shoes have been there since tuesday. they are black, wet at the toes, and pointed toward the kitchen like they know where the food is. yuru checked the hallway twice. yuru uses the left shoe for mail when the table is full. i checked the soles and found two hundred and twelve pale grains stuck in the tread.

i swept them into a cup. the cup is now outside.

gus said the shoes belonged to a visitor, but the visitor had no name and no feet attached to the story. i moved the pair to the mat. this made the door harder to open. i moved them back. one shoe fell over and showed a red thread inside it. i pulled the thread and the hallway light went out.

the shoes are still by the door. they have survived three questions and a cup.

"if you're going to steal shoes, at least steal better ones."